Unbelivably Impossibly Complicated
by angelinconflict
Summary: Part 7 in the WRE series brings back an old foe as Dean struggles with his memories of Luckless and is forced to question everything he knows about demons.


It had been a full two months since the night Dean learned everything there was to know about Luckless, and for those two months, Castiel remained absent. Not like he was needed since Dean, Sam and Bobby were doing fine on their own, hunting the usual creatures that continued to roam despite the death of their mother. They had just taken out a vampire, two wraiths in succession, a relatively annoying demon, and a skinwalker. Tonight, they were camped out in Yellowstone National Park, waiting, and watching out for any sign of activity. Two women had already been abducted and left murdered in that park, throats slashed. Dean could only assume that they were dealing with a human, or a demon possessing a human. Dean stayed up longer than both Sam and Bobby, but there were reasons for that. He wanted to call on Castiel. Every single day following the night his memories were recovered, he stayed up late, screwed up all his courage, and prepared to call on Castiel, but the minute he was outside and the green Mustang was within his sights, he lost all his nerve and just stood there staring. He remembered the tether connected to Castiel's thoughts, but found he couldn't access that, either.

With his brother and Bobby unable to avoid falling asleep, he escaped the car, screwed up all his courage, tilted his head up and opened his mouth. No words came out. But there was a voice—a loud scream that echoed as someone or something ploughed into him, knocking him down.

Dean looked to find a pair of silky green eyes staring down at him before they were moving away swiftly. He stood to face a young woman with dark curly hair, wearing capris and a t-shirt. "I'm so sorry," she choked, fingering something at her throat.

"It's okay," he said, voice cracking. "You were obviously running from something, what was it?"

The woman bent over, breathing heavily before replying with "I don't know. Honestly, all I saw was a shadow then someone grabbed my arm. I ran. It was all I could think to do."

"Good," Dean said softly.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed in suspicion as she stepped back a little. "Do you know how late it is?"

"Yeah, I do, but that's because I've been here all night."

"What?" she gasped, gripping the object at her throat tighter, and stepping back still further. "Oh my god! I thought running was the _smart_ thing to do. How many of you are there?"

Dean held his hands up in surrender. "I'm not here to hurt you, sweetheart, I'm just here to investigate."

"Investigate?"

"We're FBI," Dean said, pulling a badge out of his pocket to show her.

"_We're_ FBI? So there _are_ more of you out here!"

Dean nodded, pointing to the two sleeping hunters inside. "It's been a long night. So…" he started, walking towards her, "you gonna at least tell me your name?"

"Not until you tell me yours," she bargained.

Dean thought about all his fake names, but not one of those came out. "I'm Dean Winchester."

"Alison Hanily," she offered, holding her hand out to him. He took it without any hesitance.

"So what brings you out here, Alison Hanily?" he asked, surprised by the warmth that emanated from her fingers.

She pulled something out of her pocket to show him. "It's a steps counter. I was just taking a jog like I always do." She glanced behind her.

Dean nodded in complete agreement. "Do you live close to here?" he asked.

"Relatively close," she replied, pocketing her steps counter. "Why?"

"Well… maybe I should walk you home. Obviously, it's not safe out here for you."

"I live ten minutes back that way," she said with a laugh. "It's not a big deal, I can just… run."

"Alison," Dean started, gazing down at their hands which neither had released, "I would feel better if you would let me walk you home."

Alison's smile was captivating. "Alright, Agent Winchester, I would love for you to walk me home."

Dean patted his belt to make sure his weapons were there before escorting Alison through the park. She had the softest hands of any woman he had ever met and even though he was supposed to pretend to be professional, he was glad that she welcomed his hand around hers. As they reached an open area, Alison decided to perch herself on the top of the picnic table stationed there. "You're not an FBI agent," she pointed out with a smirk.

"What?" he laughed.

"You know how I know?" She tugged him closer, winding her arms around his neck. "An agent would never let me do this…" she pressed her lips gingerly to his as though waiting for a response, eyes open as she giggled. "Am I crossing the line, Dean?"

"I'm not an agent," he confessed, and pulled her close to kiss her. The kiss felt good and he was definitely into it, but bombarded by the image of Castiel, he was forced to separate. "I'm sorry…" he gasped.

"Dean?"

He looked up into her smooth complexion and unbelievably beautiful green eyes before deciding that he would try again. "You _were_ being chased, right?" he asked, pressing his hands around her face. "This wasn't just some proposition?"

"I was being chased," she insisted, leaning up to start kissing him again. "I mean… it could have just been paranoia, it is very dark out here, but… if you think I was lying just to…"

"I don't," he cut in, lowering his lips down to her neck to find that she wore a bronze cross. He eased back a little upon notice of a dark spot where the cross usually sat. "Sonofabitch," he hissed, and pulled back, tugging a flask from his pocket.

"Are you a drinker," she teased, sliding off the picnic table.

"Nope," he answered then tossed the holy water at her. He had expected her to writhe in pain, but she simply stood there, water dripping off her chin and nose harmlessly. "So, you're not a demon, what the hell are you?"

Alison stared at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm not a what?" she choked.

"Your cross," he growled, grabbing the chain around her neck roughly, "it's burning your skin."

"I'm… allergic to the bronze plating," she whimpered.

Dean stood there at a loss for words, but Alison did not stick around to wait for an explanation, instead, she left him there to start walking. "Alison," he finally managed. "Alison, wait!"

"Go away, Dean Winchester," she snapped back over her shoulder.

"I'm not an agent," he gasped.

"I know," she snapped in retort.

"Yeah, well what you don't know is that there is something or someone in this park that is abducting women like you."

She laughed, but refused to stop walking. "Some_thing _or someone? Right!"

"Right," he hissed, stepping in front of her, "Something like a demon or some other… monster. I know this sounds completely insane, but me, my brother Sam and… Bobby, we hunt these things."

"Sure you do," she mumbled trying to step around him.

"We do," he insisted, gripping her arms now. "Alison… I take no chances, which is why I had to splash you with holy water. I can't let another woman die."

She stared at him, overcoming her disbelief. "What are you?" she croaked.

"I'm not the bad guy," he replied, taking one of her hands. "And I'm genuinely sorry about everything, tonight."

"Do you think I'm the bad guy," she asked, blinking back tears.

"No… not anymore. But I think you could end up the victim if you don't let me protect you."

She relaxed under his gaze before taking his hand. "You're forgiven," she murmured. With a shove, she had him pinned against a tree, moulding her body to fit against his as their lips met fiercely. There was something about her that Dean couldn't shake, but everything about her was soft, warm, pliable. Her hair slid through his fingers smoothly and her lips were inviting.

"I never… do this," she breathed, gripping tight around his head, "I'm always the… the good girl…"

He felt a stir inside him as though some part of him was resisting. "I need to uh…"

Alison parted slowly, reaching up to nibble at his earlobe. "You're not all here," she murmured.

"I'm sorry about that," he gasped.

"No apologies necessary, I just want to make sure I'm kissing an available man?"

"Yeah… yes! I'm definitely… available."

"Not just recently divorced or pining? Not in love with someone else?"

"You love me, already?" Dean joked, "But we haven't even gotten to the good part, yet."

"I never said that," she argued, keeping her arms held tight around him, "I've just been through it all—the married ones, the recently divorced ones, the unsure ones, the gay ones…"

"Bad romance rap?" he guessed.

"I know how to pick 'em," she replied with a grin. "You just might be a complete turn-around for me, Dean Winchester."

He heard a rustle in the trees ahead of them but attributed it to the wind and chose to ignore it. "Can I be completely honest?" he whispered, leaning closer to her, "there is someone… but it is very, very, unbelievably, impossibly complicated."

Alison bit her bottom lip. "Oh?"

"It's not like that… I think… I'm not sure… I don't really know. See what I mean when I say…"

"Very, very, unbelievably, impossibly complicated? Yeah, I see."

"There's just… weird feelings, and odd looks and… I'm not sure… and I can't say anything… maybe I don't want to… I don't know."

Alison laughed, pressing her hands to his face. "Dean, that sounds like so much more than complicated."

"It is."

Dean had no idea it was that complicated until he tried to put it into words. Is that how he would explain it to Castiel? The look he would receive would be of painful confusion. The angel had a hard enough time interpreting Dean's language without adding more puzzles, more abstractions, more I-don't-knows.

"Dean?" Alison called to him.

"Yeah," he mumbled, standing several inches from her now.

"You obviously love this person."

"How are you getting that?" he laughed awkwardly.

"It isn't love without all that stuff you just described. Someone did tell you that love is far from easy, right?"

He smirked. "Love is a battlefield."

"Exactly."

"Love stinks," he added.

"All you need is love. And of course, The Beatles said it best," she admitted, hugging around Dean with a sigh of defeat. "Whoever they are, they are extremely lucky. I definitely hope they deserve you."

"More than," he admitted.

"Wow!"

"Yeah…" As she parted, he held out his hand to her. "I'm still gonna walk you home. Just lead the way." The two began walking again only to be attacked from both sides. Alison was snatched and thrust against a tree, a knife being held to her throat. The other one grabbed Dean by both arms. "Hey! Let her go!" he demanded.

"Dean?"

The voice was familiar, but it had been a while. He was only nineteen when he was introduced to this hunter. "Garret?"

"Jesus, boy, you're not so skinny anymore, are ya?"

"I was never skinny, Gare! You on the other hand are still chunky. Thought you were gonna lay off the fast food?"

Garrett chuckled then snorted. "You are still a laugh riot, ain't ya? Where's your pip squeak brother? Still fightin the old man?"

"Sam's here, man. Can you please let Alison go? You're freakin her out with your toy there."

Garret laughed. "Sorry, man, but your new girlfriend is a demon."

"Gare, seriously," Dean said in a firmer tone now. "You've got her all wrong. She's not a demon; trust me, I checked."

Two watery blue eyes met his, offering a look of sympathy. "We've been following this one for a while, Dean. We almost had her once, tonight, but she bolted."

"Dean!" Alison cried.

Dean liked Garret, but he couldn't let him hurt Alison based on a flimsy theory. The hunter in league with Garret did not see the attack coming and so was not prepared for the elbow that jabbed his ribs or the fist that had cracked his nose. Dean was freed quickly and he grabbed Garret by the thick shoulders to drag him away from Alison. "You're a good hunter, Gare, but you're wrong this time."

"I have never been wrong, Dean," the hunter hissed, putting a fist into his stomach.

Dean stumbled back, gasping, and so was not able to block the punch that knocked him to the ground.

"No! Dean!" Alison screamed.

He was rolled over onto his back by one heavy boot. "Just remember who started this, buddy," Garret said, but before he could do anything else to the dazed Dean, the sharp end of a thick branch emerged in cork-screw fashion straight through his stomach. The mystified hunter looked down, formed an "oh" with his mouth before keeling over, landing heavily on Dean.

"Dean?" Alison called to him, grabbing his wrist to help him to his feet.

"Alison… you just killed a hunter."

"I know," she choked, gazing down at the body. "But he was hurting you. I couldn't just…"

Dean gripped her hand. "Come on, we've gotta get outta here," he urged, tugging her through the park at a run.

"Stop," she choked after they had come to the edge of the park. The highway was a foot from them, and the pale light of the moon bled across it, highlighting the yellow lines. "Dean…"

"Look, you are gonna have to get the hell out of dodge, you understand me?"

She grabbed both his shoulders, holding so tight that he winced from the pressure. "Dean, I have something to confess."

"Confess it, later," he demanded. "We have to go!"

"Dean… I know why you're here. I know about hunters and demons and angels and monsters."

Dean stared at her blankly. "How?"

"I'm going to make this very clear to you: I am exactly what you hunt—but I'm also human, and I just want you to know that I'm not the one behind the killings in this park."

He shook his head. "What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm… half demon, half human."

For long pregnant moments he just stared at her. "But… the holy water…"

"Doesn't work on me," she murmured.

Dean thought about his brother and the fact that he was part demon as well, though Dean was sure that the demon blood did not constitute half. He pressed one hand to her cheek; it was warm. "Do you… have visions or… can you manipulate minds?"

"I don't think so," she whispered.

"How do you even know you're half-demon?"

She smiled, but it was weak, reluctant. "I have very honest parents."

"You're joking…"

"We're normal, Dean, just like everyone else. My dad is a full-fledged demon who fell for my human mother. He told me life would be hard, that hunters would come after us, blame us for murders and other violent acts committed here, but he also told me that he's not the bad guy. He brought me up with morals just like any other father would. He was very honest about everything. He explained that he wasn't like every other demon, that he was trying to save the human he now possesses, but did not get to him in time. Instead, he followed through on the dying man's plea to keep his wife safe—my mother."

Dean wanted to hate her, felt every part of him attempt to do so, but he couldn't. "You know demons lie, right?" he choked.

"Yes," she whispered. "He told me that, too."

"I honestly don't know what to say here," he admitted. "I've never really heard of a good… demon."

"We're few and far between," she told him. "Dean… I'm twenty-five. I own the only diner in town. I'm an only child, and…" she lifted the cross from her throat to balance on one finger, "I believe in God."

"_Your_ God?" he asked, remembering his conversation with the only other demon he couldn't quite hate, Casey.

"_The_ God—the one who created everything, the one I confess my sins to."

"Oh… him."

"I know it's a lot to ask for you to trust me, but I have to ask it, Dean."

Dean felt himself nod to this. "Look, Alison, I think you should take off from here. Pack up just the essentials, and take the first flight out. Find someplace sunny like Cuba or Hawaii or something."

Alison nodded. "Will you come with me?"

"I'll help you get out, but I can't…"

She pressed a hand to his chest. "Dean… he loves you. If you stop overthinking the words, the right ones will be there when you need them."

He pressed a hand to hers gently. "I thought you couldn't… read minds."

"Technically, I read your soul."

"So, you lied," he said, but his voice was teasingly gentle.

"Apparently, we do that," she said with a shrug and a wink.

The sun was just coming up when they arrived at a small one-story house with a white picket fence. "And all this time, I thought you were single. Is there a dog somewhere here?"

"I've heard good things about the white picket fence, Dean. I'm still single; I just wanted to experience the human American dream. Besides, I'm more of a cat-person."

Dean nodded as he followed her in, pulling the door closed behind him. "This is nice," he complimented, pressing a hand to the mauve walls on either side of him.

"Home sweet home," she said with a tight laugh. Before Dean could take another step inside, his phone went off. He knew who it was without even asking.

"Sam," he acknowledged to his brother's heavy and panicked breathing.

"Dean, what the hell? You decided to take another trip with Cas? Are you in Australia now or something?"

Dean cleared his throat. "I uh… I found the demon, Sam, but she's not doin any killing."

"What? Where are you?"

"I'm in her house."

"Seriously? Have you lost your mind? Have you forgotten that demons lie?"

Dean heard Sam relay the information to Bobby who had the phone almost immediately afterward. "A hunter was killed here, last night, Dean. If you're snuggling up to the demon who done it then you need a damn good kick in the ass!"

"Bobby," Dean tried to explain, but Bobby wasn't letting him speak.

"No! If she's a demon, she's trouble! There are no exceptions and I know you know that despite what your downstairs brain might be tellin you!"

"What about Sam, Bobby?" Dean snapped. "You gonna go ahead and tell me my brother isn't an exception?"

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Dean?" Alison called, standing in the doorway with a backpack clinging to her shoulders. "Dean, are you alright?"

"Dean, you're bein reckless and stupid!" Bobby growled.

"I'm sorry that you can't understand, Bobby," Dean replied gruffly, "But whether you like it or not, I'm helpin her out. I'll see you and Sam soon." With that, he hung up, closed his phone and pocketed it. He gazed at the concerned face of Alison and immediately relaxed his features. "You ready, sweetheart?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," she murmured, taking a deep breath.

"Where you planning on going?" he asked, escorting her to the door.

"I'm really not sure," she admitted, "But I guess I'll know when I arrive, right?"

"I'm sorry you have to leave your version of the American dream."

She nodded. "It was great while it lasted, though."

He pulled the door open and sucked in a breath so hard that he choked. "Jesus, Cas, what the hell!" With that, he grabbed the angel by his arm and pulled him into the house, pinning him to the door. "Let me guess, Sam and Bobby sent you, said I'm bein reckless, right?"

"Are you?" Castiel asked, voice low and intimidating. It had been awhile since he had heard it. He realized he kind of missed it.

"I'm trying to help someone out," Dean snapped, easing away from Castiel to place a protective arm around Alison's shoulders. "Alison," he started, "this is Cas."

Alison stared at him then held out her hand. Castiel took one glimpse of Dean before taking the thin hand and shaking it. She shivered as he released her, furrowing his eyebrows in misunderstanding.

"I'm sorry… just one sec, okay… Castiel?"

She grabbed Dean's arm and tugged him around the wall. "Alison, we have to get…"

"I have never felt anything like that, Dean, not in my entire life. I'm sorry, but you need to say something." She pinned him there against the wall, leaning close to eye him, eyes melting as she resumed, "I am so into you."

"What?"

"That's what you say, Dean."

"I'm not saying that," he hissed.

"It'll be fine, trust me…"

"Alison," he growled, pushing her back from him.

"He's hot, Dean. I whole-heartedly approve."

Dean gripped tight around her arms. "You killed a hunter last night. We can't stand here talking about anything else unless it involves getting your ass out of here!"

Alison stepped back. "Okay… I'm sorry, it's just… it's real," she choked.

He led her back to Castiel. "I know this is a lot to ask, but I need you to take Alison as far from here as you possibly can."

Castiel grimaced. "I don't feel right doing this, Dean."

"Please, Cas," Dean pleaded now. "She's not evil, man. She was born half-demon; it wasn't a choice!"

Castiel approached Alison before responding to Dean. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm just gonna go back and face the heat! I know once I explain things, Sam and Bobby will eventually understand."

Castiel placed a hand on Alison's shoulder. Dean approached her, taking her hand to hold tight in his. "Lose the old identity, understand? Just… start a brand new life for yourself."

She nodded, tugging him close to whisper, "Dean… just tell him you love him. I promise it will be easier than you think."

"Good luck," he whispered back, easing himself from her.

Her smile was small and that would be the last he saw of her. Once Castiel was gone, his heart broke a little. He meant to leave right there and then, but he found himself wandering about the small house, noticing photos in frames up on a mantle in the living room and some more covering the end tables. Alison was young, probably still a teenager in one of the photos, arms around the shoulders of her parents. Dean examined the features of her father, but there was nothing about his stance or his expression that screamed demon. He was smiling. He was genuinely happy. If it was possible, there was actually a glow in his face making him look more angelic than demonic. Next to that photo was another—a wedding photo—Alison's father was tipped off balance, carrying his wife in one arm, both laughing. Despite what he liked to believe about demons, he was wrong about this one. This one really did love. Alison was obviously a product of that. He lifted his head to find himself staring into a mirror just above a multi-colored sofa. Photos outlined the mirror. Alison's life was even better than his and Sammy's. Her father was there for her. They went places, enjoyed each other's company. There were only two photos he was not in, and on the backs of them was written the words: taken by Jareth Hanily

Dean replaced the photos to gaze into the mirror. He was older now. He wasn't twenty-six, anymore, indicated by the worn and exhausted expression permanently trapped in his eyes. He had made it past thirty only by chance and luck and fate, but he had died many times in the process. Death's conversation with him reminded him that he was still just human and that each resurrection tore a little more innocence out of him. He knew how his life was going to end even if he had no idea when it was going to end. Eventually… it would end. He needed to tell Castiel everything before it was too late.

"It's easy," he muttered, shaking the tension out of his shoulders. The words did not have to be mushy. He could just blurt them out after explaining that he was probably on his ninth life and that things just needed to be said now before it all ended.

He opened his mouth to speak when another voice interrupted.

"You just a little conceited, Dean?" Dean pivoted around to see Crowley standing there, grinning. "Oh no, wait… that's not it. Perhaps you're practising what you want to say to a certain angel…"

"Bite me," Dean snapped.

"You can just write it on the mirror using your lipstick," he taunted, a malicious smirk on his face. "Dear Cas," Crowley began, "I've been in love with you for years! I'm sorry for telling you this way, but if you're reading this… I'm already dead." Crowley's smirk grew wider. "Did I get it spot on?" With a flick of his wrist, Dean struck the mirror, smashing the glass into fragments that rained down on Dean's crumpled form. "Sorry, sweetie, hope that didn't hurt too much."

Dean groaned, trying to tug the dagger off his belt. "You don't get me at all," he choked, tossing the dagger hard enough that the point pierced right through the skin of Crowley's leg.

Crowley let out a shocked gasp before bending down to pull the dagger out, bolts of electricity following its departure. "Bad boy," he quipped, tossing the dagger aside to approach the wounded hunter. "I might not 'get' you, Dean, but you are going to die tonight."

Dean felt himself being pulled up, a thick hand around his throat as he slid up the wall, glass falling off him.

"I have to admit, I was a bit naïve in thinking that Sam was actually telling the truth before, but I'm certain that you are the infinite soul everyone- and I do mean everyone- is talking about. You know what's funny? I never saw you and Cas as… you know… oh sure, I joked about it—who hasn't? But come on! You're Dean Winchester, the ladies' man, the big stud! Okay, Cas is a little bit feminine, but still… you two? I just couldn't see it."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Man, you talk a hell of a lot you know that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. I thought you wanted to chat. My mistake." With that, he tightened his grip on Dean's throat.

Black spots popped into Dean's field of vision. His mind screamed with only one thought that he was sure would not make it along the tether. _Cas…_

"Dean!" The door burst open, but the voice was not Castiel's.

"Sammy," he realized in a choke.

"If he dies, you have nothing!" That voice did belong to Castiel.

"Your lover boy is here," Crowley seethed with a chuckle. He let go of Dean ruthlessly, landing him in a sharp mess of glass. Dean could see everything with one eye open. Sam threw a bucket of holy water at Crowley, resulting in a loud cry that swiftly turned into a laugh. "Sammy, that tickles."

"Dean?" Sam called.

"I'm… okay, Sam," Dean assured.

"Once this bastard is dead, I'm gonna wring your neck, idjit!" Bobby snarled from somewhere out of Dean's field of vision.

Crowley laughed again in amusement. "Look, I can make this simple for all of you. You walk away, I take what I need, and you all live."

"You're not taking anything," Castiel demanded. Dean could see his coat swaying with the angel's movements, but he saw nothing else.

"Sure I am. Didn't you even question Alison about how I knew where to find Dean? Come on, angel, you're getting slow in your old age, don't ya think?"

Dean let out a grieving sigh.

Castiel's voice was toxic. "I am not a fool, Crowley! Your demon is dead!"

Crowley clapped his hands briskly. "Good for you, angel. I'm impressed with your stamina. Your voice is kind of sexy, too. We should get together for old time's sake."

Dean lifted his head and was surprised to see a smirk form on Castiel's face. He had only ever seen a smirk like that once before—the night Castiel absorbed all the souls from Purgatory. That was the only time he ever looked so smug.

_Cas_, Dean pressed, hoping for a response, anything to convince him that the angel had not, once again, turned the tables on them. He felt the tension thicken.

Castiel lowered his eyes to the hunter, and without a word, he assured Dean that he was still on his side. Dean, suddenly enriched with renewed energy, pulled himself up enough to sit with his back against the wall.

"Cas… you need to tell me how to siphon energy from the infinite soul."

"You don't," Castiel replied. "You take nothing, and instead… you die."

Crowley laughed with a nod. "Really?"

"Yes," Castiel replied.

"You think you can take on the king of Hell and not lose? It's not like you're an almighty god anymore."

Castiel nodded. "You're right, but I had help."

With that, the doors opened, revealing first Balthazar then Alison. Alison was carrying a sack over her shoulder. "She's not dead," murmured Crowley, "You tricked me."

"Yep."

Dean laughed, impressed with the angel for his budding sense of humour.

"And she's got something of yours," Castiel added as Alison dropped the heavy sack onto the floor. "And we checked; they actually are yours."

Crowley's smug demeanour faded. "You wouldn't… we were friends, once, family."

"We were never friends, Crowley," Castiel hissed, with Balthazar standing directly behind his shoulder. "I was just the bottom in our relationship."

"I looked out for you! Those rats you call friends trapped you in a circle of holy fire and I was the one who released you! No offence, but you are a horrible judge of character!"

Castiel's smug look never left even as he faced Alison who smiled in return. "I think I got it right this time." With that last remark, Castiel turned to the sack. Dean heard shuffling through glass then a loud cry of shock that bounced off the walls. Alison sank, gripping around the dagger protruding from her stomach.

"No!" Dean shouted.

"You owe me you lying little snake," Crowley hissed, dropping the demon-killing knife to attack Castiel.

Castiel set the sack ablaze before Crowley crossed even half the distance between them. While Crowley froze being consumed by the flames, Castiel leaned close enough to meet the king of Hell's eyes. "I owe you nothing!"

A pile of dust rained down on the floor, but Crowley's demise did not save Alison from the fatal wound. "Dean," Sam gasped, reaching him with worry in his gaze. "Dean, you're bleeding…"

"I don't care," Dean croaked, forcing himself up to approach Alison. She was dead long before Crowley burnt to cinders, but Dean held her on his lap, anyway. "I can't believe I brought the damn thing! Alison… please…"

"Dean, we need to leave," Bobby insisted, trying to pull the distraught hunter up by gripping around his forearm.

"I can't leave her like this, Bobby! She's got a family!"

"She was a demon," Bobby argued.

"Half!" Dean argued, sweeping Alison's dark hair off her face. "And she wasn't like all those other jerk-offs! It wasn't her fault that her father was a demon!"

Sam was next to approach, understanding how his brother felt in this situation, having been in the same one several years before when he and Dean hunted down the werewolf, Madison. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder gently. "I'm sorry…"

Dean grabbed his brother in a hug. "Sammy, can you just take Bobby out of here? I just… I need a minute."

Sam nodded. "Of course, Dean."

As soon as the door closed, Dean, Castiel, and Balthazar were the only ones left. Balthazar sensed tension and took off before he could become a part of it. Dean lifted Alison into his arms, swept the glass off the sofa, and rested her body there. He couldn't even look at Castiel, even though the angel's eyes were boring into his skull. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he snapped. "Why would you even put her into the crossfire like that, huh?"

"She was already in the crossfire, Dean. Once she admitted to me that she was working for Crowley, I nearly killed her then," Castiel argued though his voice was stable, calm. "She confessed it to me and then admitted that she liked you and she wanted to do something to make it right. How could I refuse her that?"

"You say no, Cas," Dean shouted, rounding on the angel. "You tell her it's too dangerous, that I would not want her to risk her life for me!"

"She's the one who led you to harm!" Castiel's voice had risen, the calm was receding. "Do not be so naïve as to think she did not know about the infinite soul you possess!"

Dean laughed, "of course… this is all about my soul… how could I forget that?"

"You are reckless, Dean! Bobby told you everything you needed to know and yet you still followed your enemy right into the lion's den!"

"A hunter tried to kill her," Dean fought.

"And she was trying to kill you!"

Silence fell between them, allowing for the noises of the destruction around them to echo. The glass could still be heard as it splintered. Castiel was the first to cut through the silence, voice calm again. "Why do you still believe that your life is worth nothing?"

"I don't… believe that," Dean muttered.

"I can read your thoughts, Dean."

Dean stiffened. "Then stop!"

Castiel bowed his head, sighing heavily. "I apologize for how this had to end, but I do not apologize for how it played out. I did not mean for Alison to die, only Crowley. You need to know that, Dean."

"Doesn't matter, Cas, it was my weapon that killed her; therefore it was my fault," Dean mumbled, kneeling in front of Alison to press a hand on her cheek.

"Crowley killed Alison, not you," Castiel responded from behind him.

Dean lifted up again. "I have to contact her parents, let them know what happened to their daughter."

"I will come," Castiel offered. Dean did not refuse the help, and when they discovered an address, they went there together. Jareth answered the door—he was small in size with large green eyes, the eyes his daughter had inherited.

"Are you… Alison's Hanily's… father?" Dean asked, swallowing hard over the lump in his throat.

"Yes…and… who are you?" Even his voice was compassionate sounding.

Dean felt his stomach drop, realizing what kind of impact this would have on Jareth. Sick with guilt, he asked, "May I come in?"

A hand rested on his shoulder and Dean realized without looking that Castiel was the only one who kept him standing. Without him, Dean was sure to crumble.

Sam continued to check his watch, but it had already been three hours since Dean asked him to take Bobby outside. "What do you think's goin on in there?" Sam asked, growing restless with worry.

"God only knows, Sam. Obviously your brother is losing his marbles."

"I don't think so, Bobby."

"Of course you don't. You shacked up with a demon once, too. Both of you are nine kinds of crazy in my books."

"Yeah, well at least we didn't kiss Crowley," Sam retorted.

"If it wasn't for you two idjits, I wouldn't have!"

Sam laughed. "We appreciate it."

"Sure ya do."

"You're like a father to us, Bobby. We appreciate all the idiotic things you do."

Bobby slapped Sam upside the head. "You had better." As Sam rubbed the back of his head, Bobby made an observation. "Castiel still hasn't left."

"Castiel can teleport so even if he did leave, we wouldn't see him."

"Oh… yeah… you think he did?"

Sam shrugged. "I dunno."

"Dean's been actin real strange lately. He barely sleeps; he's empathizing with demons…"

"Half-demons," Sam corrected.

"Whatever. He's not himself. Even his attitude is different. Now I'm not diggin or nothin here because I'd rather not know the details, but you think all this… stuff is due to Cas's weirdo connection with him?"

Sam turned in his seat to face Bobby. "Yeah." It was all he could say without revealing his own feelings about it.

"Yeah? That's all ya got?"

"What else do you want?"

A knock on the driver's side door ended the conversation right there and then as Dean climbed in behind the steering wheel. "You alright?" Sam asked cautiously.

"No," Dean replied gruffly then turned to face Bobby. "I'm sorry for not listenin to you before. I made a stupid decision without thinkin about the consequences, and because of that, someone died."

Bobby's voice lost its harsh and gravelly tone. "You're not to blame, son. You've gotta believe that."

Without a word more from any of them, Dean gunned the engine, taking them as far away from that place as possible.

He was tired after the long drive, but could not sleep, knowing that the moment he closed his eyes, he would see Alison's face a second after the knife pierced her skin. He sat outside Bobby's staring at a sky spattered with stars like flecks of white paint against a dark blue canvas. It didn't even look real to him. Where was she now that she was dead and gone? Was she being tortured in Hell? Did God finally give her a break and open Heaven's gates to her? Did she land in Purgatory with god knows what kind of creatures?

_You need not worry about her. I guarantee she is happy where she is._

Dean glanced up. "You know, if you're just gonna stand there, you don't need to think at me."

Castiel's smile was warm, warmer than it had ever been. "I discovered that you cannot interrupt if I 'think' at you."

Dean was forced to laugh even if he didn't want to. "So, she's happy?"

"Yes." Castiel sat next to him.

"Did you do that?"

"I had some sway over the decision."

"How much sway?" Dean pressed.

"A lot," Castiel replied. "You know, Dean, archangels aren't just for show, despite what the paintings will have you believe."

Dean nodded. "Usually the paintings show you guys in drag."

"They're robes, Dean."

"That's what they would like you to think."

Castiel rolled his eyes then laughed slightly before adding "Today… my decisions… they had nothing to do with protecting the infinite soul. Well… of course, they had something to do with it, but that was not my only concern."

Dean nudged the angel in the ribs with his elbow. "I know, Cas. It's fine. We're… good."

"Dean…"

"Don't worry about it."

With a sigh of frustration, Castiel bowed his head, seconds later, Dean heard:

_I did it for you; I do everything for you._

Dean cleared his throat, feeling suddenly wracked with nerves. The words were like fingers of warmth pressing on Dean's heart. "I was interrupting," he gulped.

"Yes."

"Sorry…"

Castiel nodded, lifting to his feet and placing his hands in the pockets of his coat. "Will you be alright?"

"Yeah," Dean replied with a laugh, unable to meet Castiel's eyes directly, "When am I not alright? I'm always right as friggin rain. I should get inside and sleep. You um… have a good one, huh?"

"You too, Dean."

Castiel was gone and the flutter of his wings immediately allowed Dean to relax then scold himself for acting like a freak. "It's not like he hasn't said that stuff before," he muttered, heading back into the house and dropping down hard on the couch to glare at the ceiling. "Get a friggin grip, Dean!" But unfortunately it was just so damn unbelievably, impossibly complicated.


End file.
